officer, who frowned in response.
But one look from Detective Hough had the man backing down. Hough nodded and stepped forward. “Let’s talk.”
“You want some coffee, Detective? It’s already made,” Vincent said as he shut the door behind him.
“Sounds good. Where’s Ms. Alvarado?”
Jordan’s head popped out of her room. “I’m in here packing. Vincent…” She trailed off but there was a question in her eyes.
He nodded, understanding her completely. It had always been like that between them. Sometimes they could communicate without saying a word. Of course now it didn’t take a psychic to figure out what she needed. She wanted him to deal with the police. “I’ve got this covered.”
Relief flooded her expression before she disappeared back in the room.
“You guys going somewhere?” the Detective asked casually, though there was nothing casual in his rigid stance.
“As soon as we can pack. Jordan was in WITSEC for seven years.” Vincent decided not to play games with the man. Getting right to the point was the smartest thing he could do in this situation and it would likely ensure more cooperation. Hough had been straight with him so far.
The other man’s dark eyebrows rose at that and he motioned to the coffee pot as they entered the kitchen. “You mind?”
Vincent shook his head and started gathering the plates. “What’s the situation like down there?”
He shrugged. “Ordered chaos. We’ve got it under control, and the bomb dogs have secured the parking lot and are in the process of doing the same to the perimeter and the building, but the locals are freaking out. The news stations will be descending soon if they’re not already here. So, that was Ms. Alvarado’s vehicle? You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t know who did it though.” But he planned to find out. Vincent hurriedly gave the detective a rundown of everything he’d learned so far; from Jordan’s years in WITSEC, to the names of the man she’d put behind bars and his alleged accomplice brother—who may or may not be dead. Since she’d left the program of her own free will and the man she’d put behind bars was dead, Vincent was almost a hundred percent certain he was legally allowed to divulge this information. Especially since she’d come clean to all her friends about her real identity. Even if he hadn’t been allowed to, he would have told him because the detective might be able to help Jordan. That was all that mattered.
When Vincent was done, Hough was silent for a long moment as he digested everything. “You spoke to the Marshals?”
“Yeah. They don’t know what they missed, but her handler is scrambling to look into it. I’ll give you her information, but we’re leaving as soon as we can. I want Jordan away from here.”
That information didn’t seem to please Hough, but he nodded. “You leaving town?”
“No, I’m taking her to my place. You’ve got the address in your file. It’s more secure and until we get a handle on this situation, I don’t want to just blindly run out of town.”
“You’ll have to make an official statement about her vehicle, but I’ll take care of that. I’ll also have an officer escort you out of here. Often bombers like to stick around and look at their handy work, so we’ve got eyes on the area.”
Vincent nodded, already knowing that. Bombers, arsonists, and even serial killers loved to see law enforcement scrambling amidst the destruction and chaos they’d caused. They got a thrill from it. It was like sick-fuck 101—they all subscribed to the same messed up handbook. “Fine with me. As soon as she’s done, it’ll take me a few minutes to get my stuff together.”
The detective’s radio went off with a request for assistance. After a brief reply, the man set his half empty coffee mug in the sink. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll leave an officer outside. When you’re ready let him know and we’ll get you guys out of here.
But one look from Detective Hough had the man backing down. Hough nodded and stepped forward. “Let’s talk.”
“You want some coffee, Detective? It’s already made,” Vincent said as he shut the door behind him.
“Sounds good. Where’s Ms. Alvarado?”
Jordan’s head popped out of her room. “I’m in here packing. Vincent…” She trailed off but there was a question in her eyes.
He nodded, understanding her completely. It had always been like that between them. Sometimes they could communicate without saying a word. Of course now it didn’t take a psychic to figure out what she needed. She wanted him to deal with the police. “I’ve got this covered.”
Relief flooded her expression before she disappeared back in the room.
“You guys going somewhere?” the Detective asked casually, though there was nothing casual in his rigid stance.
“As soon as we can pack. Jordan was in WITSEC for seven years.” Vincent decided not to play games with the man. Getting right to the point was the smartest thing he could do in this situation and it would likely ensure more cooperation. Hough had been straight with him so far.
The other man’s dark eyebrows rose at that and he motioned to the coffee pot as they entered the kitchen. “You mind?”
Vincent shook his head and started gathering the plates. “What’s the situation like down there?”
He shrugged. “Ordered chaos. We’ve got it under control, and the bomb dogs have secured the parking lot and are in the process of doing the same to the perimeter and the building, but the locals are freaking out. The news stations will be descending soon if they’re not already here. So, that was Ms. Alvarado’s vehicle? You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t know who did it though.” But he planned to find out. Vincent hurriedly gave the detective a rundown of everything he’d learned so far; from Jordan’s years in WITSEC, to the names of the man she’d put behind bars and his alleged accomplice brother—who may or may not be dead. Since she’d left the program of her own free will and the man she’d put behind bars was dead, Vincent was almost a hundred percent certain he was legally allowed to divulge this information. Especially since she’d come clean to all her friends about her real identity. Even if he hadn’t been allowed to, he would have told him because the detective might be able to help Jordan. That was all that mattered.
When Vincent was done, Hough was silent for a long moment as he digested everything. “You spoke to the Marshals?”
“Yeah. They don’t know what they missed, but her handler is scrambling to look into it. I’ll give you her information, but we’re leaving as soon as we can. I want Jordan away from here.”
That information didn’t seem to please Hough, but he nodded. “You leaving town?”
“No, I’m taking her to my place. You’ve got the address in your file. It’s more secure and until we get a handle on this situation, I don’t want to just blindly run out of town.”
“You’ll have to make an official statement about her vehicle, but I’ll take care of that. I’ll also have an officer escort you out of here. Often bombers like to stick around and look at their handy work, so we’ve got eyes on the area.”
Vincent nodded, already knowing that. Bombers, arsonists, and even serial killers loved to see law enforcement scrambling amidst the destruction and chaos they’d caused. They got a thrill from it. It was like sick-fuck 101—they all subscribed to the same messed up handbook. “Fine with me. As soon as she’s done, it’ll take me a few minutes to get my stuff together.”
The detective’s radio went off with a request for assistance. After a brief reply, the man set his half empty coffee mug in the sink. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll leave an officer outside. When you’re ready let him know and we’ll get you guys out of here.
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